Photuris VIII:  Sunday Morning
by Green Owl
Summary: River and Jayne honor the Sabbath in their own special way.  From the Songs About Jayne Collection.


Author: Green Owl

Title: Photuris: Sunday Morning

Disclaimer: I don't own or buy/sell/process this mind crack - I just abuse the hell out of it.

* * *

"Yer late," Jayne said, hands on hips as the airlock door lowered. 

Kaylee was silent as she stumbled into the cargo bay. She was soaked to the bone, her pretty little face tracked with raindrops, tears and runny black eyelinin' stuff.

She put one hand up and pushed her waterlogged bangs out of her eyes with the other. "Frye, reporting for duty."

"Shoulda been here an hour 'go," he insisted in an aggravated tone.

"Yeah, well shoot me," she replied in a shaky voice, trying to keep her chin from quivering. "Elena should do quite nicely for a little backbirth prairie harpy like me."

"Elena'd leave a hole in ya the size o' my fist," he rebuked. "Best go with Angie or Jessica. Less mess."

"Whatever," she muttered, wiping her nose with her wrist. "Just so long as it'll put me outta my wretchedness."

Jayne didn't know what to say to her and she obviously didn't expect any kinda comfortin'. He sighed as he touched his palm briefly to hers. "Cobb, officially off-duty."

She nodded, wrapped both arms 'round herself an' trudged up the ramp, no trace o' sweetness or light in her eyes.

He watched her go as he made his way down into the moist night, wonderin' if it wouldn't be amiss o' him to beat on the doc a little before he dragged the man's worthless hide back to the ship.

The downpour had been comin' in fits and spurts, but it had tapered off some for the moment, leavin' a low-hangin' fog of thick, wet air blanketin' the streets. Some objected to such humidity, but Jayne liked it – made it easier to pick up on smells and odors, like the flavorsome ones comin' from the all-nite eatery where he bought himself a pouch of tempura.

He crunched his way through his food as he walked through the city, noticin' how thinly populated the sidewalks had become. It was as if the people had sought refuge in the many different attractions – game arcades, orgy studios, ice-cream parlors promisin' 3,001 flavors.

He looked at some of the offerings and questioned why he didn't feel the urge to stop in an' spend his coin.

His mind cleared for a moment and smiled as he realized that it was Sunday morning.

Jayne's ma and pa hadn't been altogether successful at drillin' much morality into his head, but they had taught him that the Lord and Lady's Day, wherever he happened to be when it came 'round, was to be regarded as a time for worship.

He stopped for a moment before continuin' on his way and gave heartfelt mind-thanks to the Lord of the Forge and the Lady of the Fray for strength, cunning and the Remington SP-10 gas-operated shotgun he'd acquired yesterday at a greatly reduced price due to his intimidatin' manner.

* * *

"How is he?" Jayne asked, peerin' at the prone man on the bed. 

"Still passed out," the woman said, patting an insensible Simon on the back. "Not so much as a twitter since you unloaded him."

Jayne grunted. "Figures. I finally get him within ten feet of a female who knows how to handle a skittish show pony like him an' he keels over an' nods off."

"Skittish he may be, but his looks are fair enough to make a girl come closer," she said, running a hand through Simon's dark hair.

"Well, his breath is foul enough to stun a Reaver," Jayne observed, makin' a face. "How long can he stay here?"

She smiled. "How much ya got?"

Jayne peeled off a roll of credits and handed them to her. "That adequate?"

"Should hold him over 'til noon," she said, rolling the credits up and tucking them inside her blouse as she eyed him. "Might even be enough to procure a little attention for you, if you're so inclined…?"

He shook his head and chucked her under the chin. "Sorry, Annie, don't think I can afford a fancy piece like ya."

She smiled at him. "Always were a slick one with the compliments, Jayne Cobb."

"Hey, gotta work with what I got," he said, grinnin' at her.

"Don't you worry none 'bout this boy here," she said, indicating Simon. "He'll come 'round in a few hours and we'll take right good care of him."

"Thanks," Jayne said headin' for the door.

"You take care of yourself," Annie called after him. "And watch you don't get caught in the rain, young man. Like to spoil those pretty pistols of yours."

Her warning was not for nothing.

The moment he stepped outside, the mist turned to a drizzle and Jayne let loose with a string of mid-level profanity. Rain was good for many things – growin' greens, puttin' out fires, washin' off equipment – but it was hell on his ladies.

He looked up an' caught sight o' the high-rise profile of the Hotel Cheng Sai and reached down into his pocket for the key to his room. It finally was time to make use of his bed and room service.

* * *

"Many thanks," Jayne said before closin' the door on the serviceman. 

He trudged back to his bed and sat down, lookin' at the meal he'd ordered. The fancy little rolly-cart with its fancy little flower in a vase and fancy little white tablecloth featured a full meal – beefsteak rare, potato wedges, fried tomatoes, green beans, six-pack of ale and a carton of triple-chocolate ice cream.

Wasn't often he got the chance to hole-up in a hotel room, and almost never on someone else's platinum. He intended to enjoy every bit o' it. He flipped the fancy little white napkin onto his lap and dug in, savorin' the feel of chewin' on real food as he watched the early-mornin' entertainment on the widescreen.

An hour passed as Jayne munched, chomped and drank his way through the entire meal. He wasn't all gentrified like the doctor currently passed out in one of the nicer whorehouses in the green-light district, but it wasn't as if he didn't appreciate the finer things in life.

Jayne allowed himself a moment o' chuckle as he considered the irony o' the situation. Who would've thought that the brown-collar merc would be sippin' on fine Sihnon ale, 'bout to take a nap in a five-star lodge, and the Core-bred trauma surgeon would soon be wakin' up in a workin' girl's bed? _Somethin' 'bout that's downright poetical._

He looked 'round, notin' the luxury o' the sheets, the finery o' the drapes, the extravagance of the fine china and ivory chopsticks and silver dinnerware.

_Yessir, Jayne Cobb has come up in the world, if just for the night…er, day._

The shower beckoned and Jayne answered the call, once again disarmin' himself an' strippin' off his clothes. He turned the knobs, getting' the temperature just right as he reviewed the different toiletries on the counter. He opened a bottle of cleanser and inhaled. _Smells just like her…_

Jayne stepped in under the spray and started latherin' up as he took a look at the environs. The bath was almost identical in layout to the one in Kaylee and the girl's room and he allowed himself to remember the events that took place not six hours earlier.

_Sure wish she were here right now… _Jayne grinned as he recalled what his pa used to say in times like these: "Son, if wishes were horses, we'd all be eatin' steak."

_Just had me some, Pa_, he mused, smilin' a bit as he washed his chest. _Just had me some..._

* * *

He didn't rightly know what woke him up, but thinkin' back on it, it was likely the sound o' the handset ringin'. 

"'Ello?" he mumbled.

The connection clicked off and he hung up, too tired to curse out whoever had dared to wake him from sleep.

He was almost asleep again when he heard the knockin' at the door. It had to be Zoe. She was the only person who ever dared wake him when he was sleepin'.

Jayne grabbed Gloria and stalked over to the door, intent on havin' a little man-to-warrior woman talk with her, preferably endin' with her gettin' gone due to his bein' all nekkid an' such.

"Listen, Mrs. Washburne, I earned this time off fair an' square, so ya can just take whatever 'emergency' yer's pretendin' to have, an' put…it…"

His voice trailed off as he flung open the door and found her standin' there wearin' nothin' but the t-shirt he'd dressed her in last time he'd seen her.

"I'm ready," she said, looking at him steadily as she held up a bundle of credits.

* * *

"Ya sure 'bout this from top to bottom?" he asked her as she sat next to him on the edge of the bed. 

"Yes," she said, absently rubbing her arm where he'd gripped her.

He'd nigh on dragged her into his room, tellin' himself that he wasn't wantin' her to spend a minute more than necessary in full view of anyone who might come along and ogle her.

Now as he looked at her, he was feelin' that filthy-guilty feelin' all over again: filthy because the reason he'd dreamed up for grabbin' her was as flimsy as the excuses he was comin' up with to not rip the clothes offa her sweet little body and make her moan an' groan; guilty because he thought he might've hurt her when he pulled her inside.

"Sorry 'bout that," he apologized, choosin' to concentrate on the possible injury and ignore the fact that he was completely nekkid and it wouldn't take much to get her in the same state.

"It's all right," she replied, laying the money out on the bed. "Three hundred credits, as agreed."

Jayne ran a hand over his face an' through his hair, unsure of what to do.

The lamplight revealed three thin lines between her eyebrows as she looked at him, head cocked to the side. "Is this unnatural? Is this why you hesitate to touch me?"

"No," he answered, shakin' his head an' smilin' with one corner o' his mouth. "I'm just a bit…how do I put this?"

"It's a first for you, too?" she proposed softly, covering his hand with one of hers.

He looked down at the money, up at her. "I ain't never initiated no one before. Guess you could say I'm more'n a bit nervous that I might mess it up an' make ya not wanna do it no more."

Her smile was subtle and amused. "After all the times you have supplied me with pleasure, you think this would be any different?"

He didn't say anything, just looked down at her hand on his. She had small hands - elegant fingers attached to slender palms than flowed into thin wrists that made him think of all manner o' delicate birds. _Buddha George W. Shrub, where're all these birdish prosy thoughts comin' from?_

"Perhaps I am your pen," she said, bringing his hand to her breast.

"Pen, huh?" he asked, lettin' himself smile as he played along. "What kinda ink ya got in ya?"

"Blue," she said, leaning into his hand.

He slid his thumb slowly 'cross her nipple. It hardened and he felt himself doin' the same. "Guess I just thought you'd want yer first time to be with someone you had feelin's for."

"Was yours?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Nah," he said, smilin' a bit. "Pa took me to the whorehouse right 'fore I left and had his fav'rite girl make me a man."

He lifted his hand from her until just his index finger was touchin' her, tracin' her contours.

"Flesh bliss does not make a man," she said, moving closer to him. "Nor does it make a woman. This service is both blank and hallow in the grand scheme of life."

His hand dropped onto the bed, grasped the pile o' credits. "It just don't seem right, girl; man like me bein' yer first."

"Why?"

"For all yer lunacy, yer still a fancy piece of Core-bred high-born," he replied. "Me, I'm just an overgrown 'man-ape' from a dinky little weldin' moon on the Outer Rim. It's kinda like tryin' to load Vera with bullets meant for Betsy, _dong ma_?"

"No, I do not comprehend," she replied, leaning in to rub her smooth cheek against his bristly one. "We are not firearms."

"Oh, yeah," he said, closin' his eyes at the enjoyable sensation of her skin on his. "We're writin' implements, right?"

"Something of the like," she said, inclining her head to sweep her eyelashes against his nose.

He drew back, pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, cupped the back of her head. She closed her eyes as he leaned in and brushed a kiss 'cross her cheek, dangerously close to her mouth.

"What do we do now?" she asked, bringing a hand up to rest in the crook of his elbow.

"First, you're gonna get nekkid," he said, kissin' her jaw as he swept the credits to the floor. "Then we're gonna get excited. And then we're gonna mate."

"Yes, mate," she agreed, spellbound by the rough timber of his voice. "But could we just do the first and third steps? I'm already excited."

"Like to go outta order, dontcha?" Jayne asked, grinnin' while he reached for the bottom of her shirt.

She smiled as she raised her arms and helped him pull it off.

She rolled onto her back and scootched up the bed a bit before lyin' back on the bed and he loomed over her, runnin' a hand from her neck to her navel. He stopped to linger on a few choice rises, takin' a moment to appreciate how pale and pretty she was, all soft, delicate curves and planes against the stark opulence of the red velveteen coverlet.

He hooked each of his index fingers in the top of her unders and gently drew them down her legs. She sighed as he planted a kiss on her belly button, giggled when he dipped his tongue into it.

"Gorram, darlin'," he breathed as he sat back and drank in the sight o' her, "Ain't ya just all sorts o' fine-lookin' in nothin' but yer skin?"

"I have had identical thoughts about you," she confessed, her eyes drifting downward from his lips. She took his hand and placed it between her legs, just as she had many times before. "I've had them most recently for the last hour."

"_Wuh de ma_, River-girl," he whispered, strokin' her with a sure an' gentle touch. "Yer folks sure named ya right an' proper."

Her eyes slammed shut and her mouth dropped open as she twisted fistfuls of the coverlet and surged against him.

"Do I…do I need to be more excited?" she asked, the question ending in a whimper as he slid a finger into her and curled it forward in a deliberate, definite gesture that never failed to make her cry out.

"No ruttin' clue, darlin'," he replied, stretchin' out next to her and bendin' his head to her breast. "What say we spend an hour or two workin' on it just in case?"

"Yes!" she gasped, planting her feet and lifting her hips to his hand as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Perfect paradox for the day of rest!"

"No rest for the wicked," he observed, addin' another finger.

"Yes, wicked," she concurred, making a series of high-pitched panting noises as he spread his fingers and used his thumb to sketch a circle on her a little higher up.

Jayne grinned. She was so gorram responsive and he loved, no-holds-barred loved, bein' the one to make her shake and shriek like she was now. Why in the seven hells had he ever resisted this, resisted her? _Made no kinda sense, denyin' myself all o' this._

He found his thoughts gatherin' an' centerin' as he paid attention to gratifyin' her.

There was, o' course, the dependable thrill of sexin' in general; he was a man of cosmic appetites and it'd been a long, long time since he'd found anyone who came even close to satisfyin' him the way she did. He'd also come to appreciate the rush of the forbidden, knowin' that any chance of discovery would meet with, at the very least, some sort o' tussle. An' the prospect of a knock-down, drag-out fight always made him happy.

But under the layers of contentment and thrill-findin' was the knowledge that she'd chosen him. _Him_. Jayne Cobb, eldest son o' Lee an' Nellie, boy who the whole ruttin' town thought'd never amount to nothin'. And here he was with a beautiful little lady from Osiris who was callin' on all sorts o' religious personages in all sorts o' languages while he made her hotter an' wetter than a summer storm.

"My turn," she said, a sinful gleam in her bright dark eyes as she lay next to him, pupils dilated and skin glistening.

She twisted in his arms and got a firm grip on a certain part of him that was mighty excited about finally receiving the kind of attention he'd been hopin' for since that first night she came to him in his bunk.

Jayne rolled onto his back with a grin an' a leer as she began her concentrated assault on his body. _Gorram. but that girl uses her hands and mouth to devastatin' effect._ He couldn't think 'bout nothin' when she did _that_ to him, except maybe that he was right partial to how firm an' gentle she was at the same time.

"Aw, gawd, darlin'," he muttered, slidin' his fingers into her hair, hair that he himself had washed earlier that evenin'. "Feels so ruttin' good when ya do that."

Jayne stood it for as long as he could, but soon it was his turn to roll her over and seek out her sweet spot, to revel in the vise-like grip o' her thighs 'round his head an' the diggin' o' her fingers into his scalp and her heels into his back. Best o' all were the little sounds she made – soft, sweet little squeaks that drove him outta his gorram mind, anticipatin' what she'd sound like when he was inside her.

He didn't have long to wait before he found out 'cause she got mighty insistent that he get up an' "align" them "this instant!", punctuatin' the demand by tuggin' on his hair with both hands until he complied.

"Slow," he reminded her as he took his weight onto his forearms. "Gotta take it slow, darlin'. Don't wanna cause ya no pain."

"Yes," she whispered, slidin' her hand down to guide him into her, so ruttin' gorgeous as she lay there beneath him, openin' herself up to him.

His first thought…_soft_.

She exhaled cautiously as she wrapped her arms around him and did her best to relax.

His second…_slick_.

She bit her bottom lip, scrunched her nose as she accepted more of him.

His third, fourth and fifth melded together in an accordance of _hot_, _home_ and _hell, yeah! _as he sank all the way into her.

She closed her eyes, kissed his neck, let her head fall back onto the pillow.

"How'd ya feel?" he asked quietly, restin' his forehead 'gainst hers.

She hummed in his ear, a low, sweet note that sent a shiver up his spine.

"Warm. Full. Filled and fulfilled, at the same time," she murmured, smoothing one of her hands down his back. She inhaled slowly, her eyelids lowering as she concentrated. "Both satisfied and restless. Is that normal?"

"I don't know," he admitted and smirked at her. "I ain't a girl."

"Demonstrably evident," she agreed as she rolled her eyes and grinned. "Incidentally, _very_ upmarket man parts. Match up quite nicely."

"Brat," he grumbled sarcastically, twistin' his mouth and visualizin' strippin', cleanin' and reassemblin' his newest gun to keep from movin'. _Gorram, but she feels glorious._

"Brute," she retorted cheerfully, tracing an aimless pattern on his shoulder blade as she analyzed the new and exceptionally pleasurable sensation of being occupied.

They lay there for a few moments, him doin' his best to keep his weight on his elbows, her shiftin' an' adjustin' here an' there as she got herself all comfy-like.

"Is that all there is?" she inquired as she slightly modified her position again, lifting a leg and rubbing her toes along his thigh. "I thought there was motion, too. Am I misinformed?"

"No," he said, his voice comin' out a little strangled an' broken.

"What else is there?" she asked, flex-testing her inner muscles around him.

"Gorramit, girl, _don't do that_," he ordered, clenchin' his teeth as he instinctively pushed a little more deeply into her. "I'm tryin' to take it as leisurely as possible here."

A tiny little whimper escaped her lips as he repositioned himself.

Jayne felt his toes curl as her fingernails bit into his muscles and one o' her feet rubbed up an' down the back of his calf.

He stilled, though it took him a fair bit o' focus. "Ya 'kay?"

She nodded quickly, smoothin' her hands up and down his back and makin' a soft, sweet sound that made him feel like he'd been gut-punched in a really, really good way.

"Again," she whispered.

He pulled back and pushed in for a second time, just as slow and careful as the first, watchin' her face for any sign o' pain. There weren't none, just a blissful smile that made him wonder how long he could keep it there.

_So good… _

"More," she begged, archin' her back and twistin' her hips.

"Too soon," he gasped. "Don't wanna hurt ya – "

Her eyes glowed as she slid her hands down to lock on his backside and raised her legs up to lock around his waist.

"More!" she demanded, a wicked smile curving her lips as she moaned.

"First time, darlin'. Shouldn't be hurryin' this," he protested, cautious as he moved within her.

_So…ruttin'…good._

"More," she insisted, squeezing him between her legs.

"Gonna be sore in the mornin'," he warned, carefully pushin' in an' out again, tryin' to not scare her.

"Already is morning," she pointed out, locking her ankles above the small of his back. "Want more."

"Like this?" he asked, pickin' up the pace a bit.

She made a series of odd, choked sounds deep in the back of her throat and he stopped, immediately remorseful.

"God, girl, I'm s – "

He looked into her eyes, found them wide an' wild, an' her breath comin' in short, harsh pants.

"No apologies, no holding back," she spat, cutting him off as she clenched her teeth and drove her hips up at him. "Harder. Faster._ Now_."

She dug her nails into his backside and glared at him so fiercely that for one, brief moment, he almost feared for his life.

"All right, darlin', but keep in mind, ya asked for it!" he snarled, slammin' into her with all the force he could muster.

The sound she made this time was searing, keening, hoarse, more than a match for the groan that was wrenched from deep inside him at how ruttin' incredible it felt to be with her, on her, _in_ her.

"Yes!" she gasped, closing her eyes, baring her neck to him and arching her back as he moved.

_God, could definitely get used to this_, he thought as he shoved one hand into her hair and another under her ribcage to hold her still. He took complete advantage of her exposed throat, suckin' a bit o' her skin into his mouth as he drove into her in a manner that was downright aggressive. She didn't object – no, not at all – rather she welcomed him with raucous encouragement and a riotous rhythm to her hips that informed him in no uncertain terms that he would not be lastin' as long as he'd like to in this round o' sexin'.

Jayne tried to preserve some sanity, tried to control the cadence of their movements, tried to hold off the inevitable as they grappled together for dominance but she utterly subjugated him with her ruthless grasp on him, her lips 'gainst his throat lettin' loose all sorts o' hot little sounds that made it impossible concentrate on much o' anythin'.

Girl knew exactly what she wanted, and what she wanted was a very, very rough ride.

Right before he lost control, he had the stray thought that he'd like to be worshippin' her body like this for a long, long time, maybe even for the rest o' his life…

He was prevented from examinin' the thought any further as she sank her teeth into his shoulder and howled into his skin while her fingernails scored his back and her thighs constricted 'round his hips so tight he thought he might pass out.

He winced a bit at the pain, but she let go almost instantly and leaned her head back to gaze up at him.

One look in her shadowed, slumberous eyes and he was done, ended. He held her still, starin' deep into her eyes as he gripped her hair, her shoulder. She didn't look away, didn't draw back as he convulsed against her.

She just held him in her arms and watched him with a warm, soothing smile on her lips.

They stayed like that for a good long while, staring at each other, neither of them willing to break the silence. Then she raised a hand to lightly trace the ridge of his brow and he turned his head to press a kiss to her palm.

"Am I too heavy?" he asked, makin' as if to roll off her.

"No," she whispered, trying to keep him where he was. "I like that you rest your bones on me."

"Ya feel real good, too," he confessed, drawin' his hand from her hair and runnin' his knuckes 'cross her cheekbone. "Soft in all the right places."

"Is this part of it?" she inquired, shifting her legs to make him more comfortable.

"Is what part of it?" he asked, wonderin' what she could be referrin' to.

"The touching, the calming, the reassuring after the act," she clarified.

"When it's good, then, yeah, it is," he said, an' kissed her fingertips one at a time.

"I'm glad," she said, tracing the outline of his upper lip and smiling shyly.

He looked down at her, marvelin' at how young she seemed in that moment. He waited for the filthy-guilty feelin' to settled in, but it didn't. All that was there was a deep sense of peace an' warmth as he looked into her eyes, like all was right in the world.

"What it what ya expected?" he asked.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I read a lot to prepare for it, but theory has nothing on practical application."

"Coulda told ya that myself," he muttered, grinnin' at her. "Do ya Core girls normally get so rarefied on us Outer Rim boys when ya get sexed for the first time?"

"Had I been a normal Core girl, my parents would have purchased the services of a highly-skilled Companion for my first time," she confided in a quiet, serious tone.

"Are ya 'kay with havin' it be a somewhat-skilled mercenary?" he asked tryin' to make light o' the moment.

He didn't realize how much he had ridin' on her answer until he felt his heart turn over in his chest as her eyes warmed and her smile softened.

She tenderly stroked the line of his jaw and said, "Were there all the Companions in the 'verse available for my selection, I would still choose you to be my first."

* * *

_ "dong ma" - "understand"_

_"__Wuh de ma" - "Mother of God"__  
_


End file.
